Hurricane
by Erossa
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is just another kid whose life fell apart after Nevis was destroyed by a hurricane. Nothing more. But when a man comes along, with a promise to fulfill, will he see that he isn't? Lams/Lulligan/Hamliza/Meggy?
1. Chapter 1

_Alexander._

 _Alexander._

 _Can you speak?_

 _Say something for me._

 _Alex..._

Alexander Hamilton's world was in ruins. Everything was destroyed, and by a goddamn _hurricane_ no less.

Everyone was dead, and he was alive. Damaged, but still alive.

He still wouldn't talk though.

The doctors and nurses who had wheeled him into the hospital were convinced that he couldn't. _A shame._ They whispered. _To live but to never be able to speak again._ Alexander could. He just didn't want to. Not to these Americans, who didn't come to help when he was starving on the streets. Who didn't help when his mother had died.

A few doctors persisted though. They were convinced that his silence was mental, not physical. He respected these doctors, but he still wouldn't speak to them. He wouldn't speak to anyone who spoke in English. He wouldn't speak to any doctors or nurses, or Red Cross workers in that matter.

Instead he spoke to the patients. He spoke to them when the nurses and doctors left to operate, when they were completely alone. He actually became quite the storyteller to them. He gave them a small piece of peace, and they gave him the chance to speak that he so desperately needed.

It became a partnership of sorts.

But then again, he couldn't speak to them too much either. As he had asked, they didn't tell anyone about his sudden ability to speak. But the medicine they took took a toll on them, and Alexander suddenly realised that anything could come out once they went under it's influence.

So he had eventually stopped talking to them as well.

He shut everyone out, and watched. He watched as his neighbours died. He watched as new patients were wheeled in, only to die in the dead of night. He watched as the doctors studied him like he was an equasion, and how they shared their findings with others.

He watched as she had taken his bag. _It's okay Alex. I'm only disinfecting it._ At the time, he didn't think much of it. A hospital needed to be clean, right? But after two weeks, he decided that something was wrong. He hadn't gotten his bag back, and the nurses and doctors had taken a sudden interest in him again.

The truth had hit him hard. The nurse had taken the bag to disinfect it. She had opened it. She had emptied it, and his notebook had opened up. She had read it. She knew everything.

She had read every single thing he had ever written.

And she must have told everyone else as well. So, he had no choice. He began to talk again, little by little, and then again only to tell them to go away. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to do anything. And the doctors seemed to be fine with that.

As long as he wasn't at risk of dying at any moment, they were fine.

The truth hurt, but he accepted it.

They didn't care about him at all.

So Alexander shut them out again. He closed all of his doors, and locked the windows. He didn't talk to anyone. He didn't look at anyone. He didn't even think about anyone.

Alexander Hamilton decided to just... watch.

And the doctors decided to double his dose.

He felt like he was just noticing everything again, from the patients to the actual ward.

The makeshift hospital the workers had put him was small, small and secluded, but the radio that had been placed near his bed told him everything he needed to know. He knew who was dead. He knew who had lived. He knew just how bad the hurricane had been.

He wanted to write about it. But the workers... they had taken his bag? He thought so, but he couldn't really remember. The medicine... It made him forget. He didn't like that. He didn't like not knowing what was going on. It also made him fall asleep, and the nurses didn't like that. They were constantly beside him, telling him to do this or to tell them that.

He reeeaaaalllly wanted to sleep.

But she wouldn't let him.

A nurse, from the island thankfully, was constantly at his side, and tried to get him to talk and chat all day long. She... She was the one who had taken his bag! He had tried to look at it, to see what she was doing with it. He had almost fainted when he saw that she was parading it around, showing the Americans what he had written.

Didn't he already go through this?

Didn't she know that it was labelled _Private_ for a reason?

 _Did you write this Alexander? Did you?_ He didn't like the Americans. They asked too many questions, and they always said them sweetly, like they actually thought that he couldn't tell that it was fake. They were pitying him. He didn't like that. He was just a sick teenager from a poor island to them, and nothing more.

An American doctor, Ms. Amelia Barnes, was the only one who wasn't like that. She respected him. She was actually talking to a tall man at the moment, who was looking down the children and teenagers sadly. Alexander knew he was an army man. He knew the type.

"Alexander? We're just going to give you some more medicine right now, 'kay?" Alexander nodded stiffly at the nurse as she gave him the medicine. She was an American worker, from the Red Cross he heard. He didn't want to talk to her.

He didn't want to talk at all.

"You can relax now, if you like. We just need to talk to you later. 'Kay?" Another nod. He took the small pill that the doctors had given him, and popped it into his drink. He watched as it fizzled into nothingness, just like his future. He knew that it would help him sleep. He didn't drink it.

He didn't want to sleep either.

He just wanted to be better.

The doses of medicine were wearing off little by little, but his fever and ribs seemed to be getting worse. Well, actually, his ribs were getting better. It was the fever that wouldn't break.

The doctors were afraid that it would be the fever that finished him off.

Alexander wasn't too sure if they were relieved or scared about that.

The dose had almost weared off now, although the stuff the nurse had given him, for his fever, seemed to be kicking in. He felt like someone was putting a blanket over him. Over his brain. He had just enough sense left to screw his eyes shut.

Dr. Barnes and the man were at his bed now, flipping through his notes and journal. "Alexander Hamilton. He's been here for three weeks, with broken ribs and a fever. Refuses to talk to anybody that speaks English. A shame really. He writes so eloquently."

The man nodded absent-mindedly as he continued reading through the journal. "Wow. His writing is... astonishing. How old is he again?"

"He's fifteen years old. Seems a lot younger, doesn't he?" The doctor said sadly, putting his file down. "He might not make it through the night."

"What? Is it the fever or..."

"Fever. His body is exceptionally weak at the moment. And with people around here not being the healthiest anyways... I don't know. No one does. And it's not like we have all the equipment in the world. We can't get enough medicine and helpers out here. No one seems willing enough George." Amelia said before sitting in the seat beside the bed. He ignored her invitation to sit beside her.

They stood in silence for a while, and Alexander stayed deathly still. He wanted to know his chances. He wanted to know if he would die, and if he did, if his doctor would care.

It would be nice if someone would.

"Is he the one, General? I mean, he fits your description perfectly. And there's not a lot of fifteen year old boys with the surname 'Hamilton' on Nevis." The doctor asked, still staring at the boy in the bed.

Alexander couldn't trust himself to even breathe. Who the hell was this man?

Alexander could feel the General nod. "I promised. I'm a man of my word, and Martha is perfectly fine with it."

"She must be some woman."

Alexander could feel the pain in his doctor's voice. The man, the General, could too. "I'm sorry Amelia but... you know-"

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Exactly. I'm so sorry. I'll be back tomorrow to finalize the details." He heard the man leave, and Dr. Barnes stomp off.

He only let out his breath when the lights were turned off.

He wasn't too sure if he was more scared of dying or who that man was.

 **-:-**

 **Ah, so. Hamilton is my latest obsession. This is... whatever it is. But Jesus, I swear I have a plot and everything. So stick around... IF YOU DARE! Mwahahaha. Jokes.**

 **Anyways, REVIEW and FOLLOW and tell me what you want to see.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all who followed and favourited and to Sophliagirl21 and Yoshimi Cherry Opal for their lovely reviews!** **Author's Note at the bottom!**

 **Enjoy!**

Alexander Hamilton was used to unfair treatment.

Growing up in the Caribbean, he had practically thrived on it. He was used to people making making cruel assumptions about him because of the way he dressed, or them crossing the street whenever he came closer.

He had gotten used to it.

He wasn't too sure why he thought that the doctors would be any different.

Of course, he didn't really blame them. He had spent the last few weeks aggravating them, by either ignoring them or shouting at them to leave him alone. He hadn't accepted their help. He hadn't done anything but annoy them, really.

And everyone had a breaking point, he supposed.

His fever had finally broken after five whole days, most of which he had spent either asleep, or screaming at them to leave. It had even developed to such a point where he had been moved to a private room, to avoid infecting the others and so that they didn't have to hear him scream at the top of his lungs in his _very, very_ extensive vocabulary, was when they had snapped.

They had told him to shut up, and they had sedated him.

Alexander didn't blame them though. No-one, no matter how _caring_ or _generous_ , could put up with him for long. Not if he was being his brutally honest self. Not if he fought for the sake of fighting, or if he started debates just because he could.

No one cared much about the poor Caribbean kid who had too much to say.

He had learnt that a long time ago.

 _"What, kid? Do you think you're clever? Do you think you're_ _special? Because you're not, Allleeeexxxx. You're not. You. Are. Nothing."_

That had been his first fight. The first time he had totally lost control, unable to predict what he was going to do next. Because he hadn't even known what he was even doing in the first place. He hadn't even known what he was _doing._

You would've guessed that by the bruises he had gotten.

He could handle abuse. He had gotten that. He could handle living on the streets, with only a cent to his name. He just couldn't handle people insulting his intelligence. He couldn't handle people thinking that they were in any way _better_ than him because they had money.

Because they weren't. They weren't at all.

He didn't have to be clever to have figured that one out.

Alexander wanted to show everyone just how clever he was. He wanted everyone to know his name, for everyone to know him for his words, and how he could shape them into whatever the hell he wanted them to be. He wanted people to know him, and not just because he was a charity case.

He wanted people to know him because he could change the world.

Because he could.

He could change the world.

But the world wouldn't let him.

 _No. It_ _won't? Will it?_ The door swung open, almost hitting the wall with the amount of force it was attacked with. Dr. Barnes walked in slowly, a stack of papers in her arms. She kicked the door closed behind her before striding confidently towards the teen.

Needless to say, Alexander was terrified.

"Hello Alexander. I was wondering if you could help me. It's boring work, but it's... rewarding, in its own sense." She sat down across from him, her dark hair falling down from its bun as she placed the papers on the bed. Alexander was suddenly reminded of his own bun as she fixed hers. He was sure that it was a mess.

He gave her a stiff nod as she halved the papers. She gave him the shorter pile, plopping them onto his lap as soon as she had finished the job. She gave him a quick smile as she took hers.

"We're gonna put them into two piles, okay?" Alexander nodded as she continued, oblivious to the fact that she was trying to get him to talk. "Adressed To The Hospital, and Adressed To The Workers. It's easy enough, but it gets very boring after a while. Nice to have some company, you know?" Alexander raised an eyebrow as she rambled on. He didn't really know what she was on about at all.

Alexander liked Dr. Barnes. He really did. She could be a bit... contrary, at times, but she was a good doctor. She really was. He knew that lots of people were a bit... scared of her, but he knew that underneath her icy looks and personality, she would jump into the very depths of Hell to help her patients. It was just who she was.

 _Who she is,_ he reminded himself. His pile was already half way done, a stark comparison to the doctor's pile, which looked like there had been more added to it rather than _less._ He wasn't too sure why that bothered him.

He wasn't too sure why the whole... _atmosphere_ bothered him.

" _I'_ _ll be back tomorrow to finalize the details."_ His brain suddenly clicked, leaving him more confused than ever. What...? Hadn't he said that four days ago? He? The man... The man... _The general._ He felt like he was about to get sick. He could feel his stomach churning, the bile getting ready to throw itself up his throat. He couldn't stay here.

 _It wasn't safe._

"So, Alex." Dr. Barnes looked up from her pile, her cold grey eyes as calculating as ever. _Itsnotsafe. Itsnotsafe. **She knows.**_ His mouth suddenly felt very dry, like it was a desert itself. _Don't let her know. Don't let her know. **Keep calm, you freak! You'll ruin everything!**_ "How do you feel? Sick? Sore?" He could feel the bile.

"I'm okay." _Lies. Lies. Lies._ The doctor raised an eyebrow at him. _She knows_ , _she knows and she's going to-_

"Sounds like you have a bit of a sore throat there, Alex."

He just nodded, not sure of what to say. What could he say?

"We're going to have to check that out before you can go." _Go?_ Dr. Barnes said, as emotionless and stoic as ever. "We'll have to check your ribs too, come to think about it." She added as an afterthought, a frown dominating her face. "Hmm... Yes."

"Sorry, but what?" His voice was a croak, barely able to be heard over the crumpling of the paper. It was a cruel testament to what it once was, a reminder that even his voice could die out. "Where am I going?"

"You've gotten better, Alexander. We needed to release you sooner or later. The fever took its toll, but it's gone now. You're... healthy. Fit. You're ready to go home." The doctor replied, only looking up once she finished. He still couldn't read her face, read whatever emotion she was feeling.

Joy?

Sadness?

He didn't know. He couldn't tell. **_Probably joy. Joy, Allleeeexxxx. She doesn't care about you. No one does. Do they?_** He shook his head. He was _not_ listening to him. Not today. "Are you okay?" There. There, in just what she said, there was a hint of worry. So she did care then. She had to.

"I'm fine."

She still looked a bit skeptical, but she dropped it. And he began organising again.

 _Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Right. Right-_

"Alexander? Your hands are shaking. What's wrong?"

 ** _What isn't wrong with him._**

Dr. Barnes grabbed his hands before he had the chance to steady them. "What's wrong?" She asked, pushing away her piles as she did. Alexander watched them as they slid slowly down the sheets, one paper at a time.

"What's wrong?" She asked again, a little more forcibly. He opened his mouth to reply, but she grabbed him close, so close that he could smell her breath. It smelt like... peppermint.

"Alexander, I was meant to do something today. I was meant to explain it to you, to make sure you understood. But I didn't. Instead I brought you crappy papers. So listen to me when I say that you need to say yes. You _need_ to. Promise me that you will. He won't do it if you don't want to. Promise me, Alexander." Her grip had tightened on his hands. Her voice was much more urgent now, much more... quick. It wasn't like her normal slow voice that relaxed her patients. This voice was nervous. This voice was... _emotion._ It wasn't just his hands that were shaking now. It was his whole body.

"What...?"

She lessened her grip before continuing talking in her quick rabid pace. "You were never meant to stay on Nevis, Alexander. You were never meant to go live with your cousin. You, Mr. Hamilton, were meant to go to Virginia." Her eyes were lit up now, like they had been set on fire. Alexander didn't understand.

He could hear voices come up the hall.

" _What?_ Virginia-" The doctor put a hand over his mouth as the voices grew louder. He pushed it off. He was going to get answers. "Who? Who was I meant to go to?"

 _The door_ _opened slowly._ Dr. Barnes jumped up, brushing off her clothes and mouthing a quick say yes before he got his answer. A man walked in, followed by a kindly looking woman.

"Senator Washington. How nice to see you."

-:-

 **DUN DUN DUN! Again, I am so sorry that I decided to put this chapter up. It's too quick, too... rushed. It will be the worst one.**

 **So. Reviews are still welcome, and if you have some ideas or want to contribute, tell me. Also, what's going on? Ha ha, you'll have to keep reading to find out.**

 **Was this bad? Was this good? It's super rushed, I wrote it in an hour.** **REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, my week was so jampacked that you would believe it. Also had writer's block, so... yeah.** **Enjoy!**

 _You were_ _never meant to stay on Nevis, Alexander._

 _You were never meant to go and live with your cousin._ The conversation replayed in his mind, each sentence bearing news worse than the last. He could remember everything in excruciating detail, from how she spoke to how he reacted. He tried to swallow the small lump in his throat.

 _You, mister Hamilton, were meant to go to Virginia._ He felt like his whole worldview had been shattered, thrown to the ground in one small, insignificant conversation. He felt... angry. Why didn't he go to Virginia? Why did no one deliver him, or even tell him the news? _Why did he have to go to his goddamn cousin's house?_ Why did these _Washingtons_ suddenly get to decide that now was the right time to receive their bastard orphan?

For _publicity?_ Out of _pity?_ It sure as Hell wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts. He felt like he could hit himself in frustration. Of course they would pick now to pick him up, pick _now_ to say, _hey, we knew your mother. You were meant to come and live with us after she died. Crazy, right?_ No. They didn't get to just... _do that._ That wasn't right. That wasn't fair.

They didn't come help him when he was dying of pneumonia. They didn't come take him when he was sleeping on some street, half dead. They didn't _rush in_ to save him when his mama had died. They didn't just get to whisk him off, expecting everything to be _fine._

They did not, under any circumstances, have any right to that.

"Senator Washington. Martha. Please, have a seat." Alexander didn't like how Dr. Barnes just shook the whole thing off like nothing had even happened at all. Like she hadn't just ruined his life, opened up an endless world of what could've been. He suddenly remembered the number one rule of survival, the one that had saved him multiple times before.

Never trust anyone but yourself.

"Thank you Amelia." The woman, Martha, said, turning Alexander's attentions onto her. She was pretty, yes, but in a kind of... _motherly_ way. Her kind eyes were framed by her long brown hair, which was sorta tinged grey. She seemed fine with it though. She seemed like she would be fine with a lot of things.

 ** _What happened to only trusting yourself, Allleeeexxxx? You gonna trust this woman?_** Alexander shook his head softly, to get rid of both the thought and idea. He couldn't trust her. He didn't even know where she lived, for God's sake.

"Don't mention it." Dr. Barnes spoke to her in a sort of bitter way, which once again spiked Alexander's curiosity. He could only ever guess what happened between those two.

"Well. Let's get down to business, shall we?" _Southern._ The Washingtons were from the South of America, which meant that Virginia was somewhere around that area too.

Alexander averted his eyes to the few pieces of paper that remained on his lap, trying not to catch anyone's attention. Weeks ago, he would've been grabbing it. But that was before. He needed to be invisible at the moment.

He needed to go unseen.

The second rule of survival, never grab unwanted attention.

 _To Jessica Moore..._ He read the page slowly as the three sat in awkward silence. _They're waiting for your attention, dumbass._ He sat up, finally willing himself to look at the man's actual face.

The Senator.

Even in his normal clothes, it was clear that he had been in the army. It was in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. In his eyes too, Alexander noted. They looked stern, but they also seemed as if they were... sad? He didn't really know. He almost reached out for his glasses before stopping himself. They needed his full attention, not for Alexander to be able to judge the man's fashion sense.

He looked like a man that commanded respect.

Which Alexander couldn't give unless he gave him his full attention.

"So. Alexander. How're you?" _How am I? Oh you know, just half dead._ He bit into the inside of his lip before mumbling a quick 'fine.' He didn't want to talk to these people. Not anymore than he had to, anyways.

"That's good to hear." Martha Washington's voice was kind too, like she actually could see the injustice in the world and wanted to fix it. He supposed the softness of it was meant to calm him too.

 ** _Trust is coming on..._** He bit down on the inside of his lip harder.

"Dr. Barnes here says that she explained everything. So, what'd you think? Yes, no, no, yes? It's okay if you need time to think. It's a big bombshell to drop on anyone, let alone someone as young as you. You need some time, or if you just have some questions, just tell me or George. We'll listen." Martha shifted uncomfortably in her seat, waiting for something to happen. For someone to say something, to add on. It was clear that she was weirded out by the whole situation.

Alexander didn't know - for the first time in his life - what to say.

What could he say? _Where were you when I was half dead? Where were you when I had to survive on a biscuit a day?_

He doubted that that would fly with them.

But they were waiting for him to say something. _Just say something, say something! Do not go into a rant, though. You need this Alexander. We need to go to America._ He bit down on his lip as his thoughts became louder. _Remember what Dr. Barnes said? She said, "say yes, Alexander." SAY YES! ASK QUESTIONS LATER!_ ** _Ooh, the anticipation. I'm shaking in my boots._** "What do you think Alexander?" The man was talking now, in a clear and calming voice. Dr. Barnes was staring at him from across the room, her message clear. _Say yes._

"Uh... okay. Yes." _So much for good first impressions._

 **-:-**

 **Super sorry about the chapter quality, but I tried. Anyways, our dear little Alex is going to be going to America! I wrote this all at around two in the morning, so yeah. Thank you all for anyone who reviewed or favourited and I seriously love you all so much.**

 **Anyways, the same goes. Reviews and questions welcome!**


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